Impetus
by jae-vous
Summary: Every event is connected, all requiring momentum to reach one another.
1. Chapter 1

I'll probably regret posting this now, but I've justified posting this for several reasons:

- The second part is nearly complete.

- I haven't been able to concentrate on writing anything else because I've been playing around with this.

- None of the stories or authors I have on alert have posted much and I need some sort of Tiva outlet.

- I feel very guilty I haven't been posting anything in general.

This is a little different from your regular story, and it jumps around in time. Short and simple, and not very refined. But it's been killing me and I just want to get it off my computer. Hopefully now I can get back to finishing Fog. Oh, and fair warning, fluffy conclusion. Guys, I just really need some Tiva lovin' right now.

_**jae**_

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**3.**

"You definitely owe me dinner. Amongst other things."

Shifting his vest until it's secured, Tony DiNozzo adjusted his hat and slammed the doors shut to the back of the truck, purposely averting his eyes from his partner's gaze.

Ziva David keeps her eyes trained in feigned interest on her back up, discharging the chamber quickly, double checking the contents. Satisfied, she returns it to where it rests in it's holster on her hip. Her gaze then finds her fingernails, studying them lazily as she waits for her partner to check his own artillery.

"You are going to have to be specific," She replies absently, keeping her voice low, "My memory is a little frizzy."

Straightening up, Tony steps forward, and Ziva slides into step behind him; the pair falling into sync with ease. Ziva's hand drifts to her side where he knows her sig rests. Instinctively, he reaches down to secure his in his own hand as they make their way to the warehouse.

"_Fuzzy. _ And you know very well I can't disclose that here. I'll debrief you tonight once we leave the Yard." The smirk in his voice is unmistakable and she spares a brief thought to check and confirm Gibbs and McGee are still out of listening distance. On the opposite side of the decaying structure, she sees the men disappear around the other side of the warehouse, guns drawn and pointed down.

Satisfied that even Gibbs sonar wouldn't be able to pick their voices up, she meets her partners smug gaze.

"Will this 'debrief' be before or after the dinner you have deluded yourself into thinking I owe you?"

Now in front of the door, they each take a defensive stance besides the entrance with their guns at the ready. He regards her with his trademark grin as he reaches a hand out to grasp the door handle.

"I'm not deluded. I was gracious enough to tend to you in your sickly state, and it was your fault ultimately that we missed dinner. And I was thinking sometime around dessert."

She rewards him with one of her deep, free laughs and then nods, their well versed silent communication indicating for him to open the door.

It takes all but five seconds after they step inside the building before the first round of gunfire rings out.

**1.**

"What time did you make the reservation for, Tony?"

Tony sighs, shifting uncomfortably on the hardwood floor beneath him. Rolling his eyes in exasperation, he regards his partner on the other side of the locked bathroom door he came to sit down beside over twenty minutes ago.

"Ziva . . ."

His partner groans, and the flush of the toilet drowns out the rest of his sentence. Muttering an obscenity, Tony lifts himself off the floor, wincing as several increasingly unreliable joints popped. He leans against the door, hand jiggling the knob in irritation.

"I may not be able to pick the lock as fast as you, but don't underestimate my ability to kick down a door."

The words are are barely out of his mouth before the door flies open with all of his weight resting on it. He stumbles into _his _bathroom and his irritation spikes momentarily, knowing she did _that _on purpose, but it quickly evaporates as he eyes his partner's current condition.

She manages a mischievous smile, although it's a weak one. She has her eyes closed and her head back, leaning against his tub with her hair tied messily back.

He chuckles without humor and lowers himself onto the floor next to her, one hand going to finger the stray curls that are lose from her elastic. She leans into his touch, and his hand proceeds to rub her neck and shoulders.

"Happy Anniversary," he chuckles again.

She grins feebly in amusement, leaning against his body as his arm slides around her waist to pull her closer.

"We are not going to make it to dinner, are we?" It's more of a statement than it is a question, but he chooses to answer her anyway.

"Definitely not." He determines, responding lightly. "You think this is a bug or just food poisoning from that sketchy chinese take out you love by your apartment the other night?"

Ziva sighs, snuggling her face into his neck in a very un-ninja gesture, her answer muffled against his skin.

"I am hoping just a . . . _bug?" _The word is colored with confusion but evidently she is too tired to ask for the correlation between bugs and vicious stomach illness. "Perhaps we can celebrate dinner tomorrow night?"

Dropping a kiss to her hair, he replies. "Sure, if you're done puking by then. . . . You're buying though."

Ziva groans, leaning forward as she battles another wave of nausea.

**8.**

"I want to see him. _Now."_

Whether it's because of how attuned his mind is to her voice, or because the venom in the sentence is potent enough to break through even his subconscious, his brain fights to grasp onto the whirlwind of activity going on around him.

Straining his ears because he can't yet lift the weights his eyelids have temporarily become, he hears a familiar, gruff voice respond.

"Ziva, you can barely walk without wincing."

"I am _fine, _Gibbs. My partner is not."

"David, don't make me head slap you with a concussion."

"It is only a junior concussion."

A third, male voice he hadn't heard yet comes from somewhere in the vicinity near his head.

"I think you mean minor there, Ziva."

A groan of frustration, "It does not matter! I a-"

"_Ziva_.." There's a warning in Gibbs voice that he hasn't heard until this point, and there's a trace of something unspoken that makes even his stubborn and relentless ninja fall silent.

Gibbs' gruff voice is low and . . . _gentle? _as he continues.

"You've been through a lot in the past few hours. Give yourself a minute to process it all. Relax."

The unusual kindness injected in their Bosses' tone has Tony's already foggy mind even more scrambled, and he spares a brief thought to how many pain killers he's received before he slips back into unconsciousness.

**2.**

"We have to get up."

Groaning, Tony tightens his grip around her hip, burying his face deeper into the back of her neck.

"But you're supposed to be _sick." _He murmurs, his hot breath on her skin igniting goosebumps.

Ziva shivered, shifting around to face him, and cuddled closer into his body under the covers.

"I think that you were right, it must have been a brief virus."

Tony answers her, still refusing to open his eyes.

"Well I suppose now we have no excuse but to report for work."

She hums in disapproval, and he feels one strong, smooth leg intertwine between his under the covers. The gesture is more than enough to switch his brain from sleepy haze to alert, and he finally opens his eyes in surrender, knowing going back to sleep is no longer an option. His mouth turns up in a smile as his sight falls on Ziva's own intimate one mere inches from his on their pillow.

"Hi," he drawls, eyes smiling.

Ziva smiles shyly, quickly leaning over to peck him on the lips, attempting to hide her decidedly mushy feelings that only he's capable of reducing her to.

"Hi to you," she murmurs against his mouth, and he smirks before he kisses her back more forcefully than the previous kiss, rolling her underneath him. She laughs from beneath him, and he lifts his head to gaze down at her.

"Let's try this again," he starts, clearing his throat as her hands travel up his sides. "Happy Anniversary."

Her laughter dies down, and he brings his forehead lower to rest on hers. Her eyes are filled with emotion and something he's learned to distinguish as fondness for him, and she regards him quietly for a moment.

"Celebrating this is important to you, yes?" she asks softly.

Tony scoffs, deflecting the heaviness of the moment.

"Only because I already got you your gift, and it would be a pain in the ass to return. I just don't want to deal with all that nonsense."

One arm running up his side slides under his shirt, and Ziva smiles when his eyes darken briefly as lust rages to the surface.

"Does this mean you bought me a new gun?"

He smirks, amused that she is playing along.

"I'm sorry if it seems too romantic, I just couldn't help myself."

She feigns surprise, clutching her chest with one hand while the other pauses under his shirt.

"You _do _like me!"

He smiles as he drops his head to pepper her neck and collarbone with kisses, and her leg comes to curl around him.

"Happy one year, sweetcheeks."

**9.**

"Can't catch a break this week, can we?"

Ziva startles from her pensive gaze out the window at the sound of his scratchy voice finally breaking the silence she spent the last several hours in. He winced when her head whipped around to look at him, almost feeling the whip lash she surely just gave herself. Quickly standing, she stuffs something into her back pocket she'd been holding and is across the room in an instant.

Visiting hours had clearly ended, because the sky outside has darkened and there was a significant absence of hustling and noise coming from the hall outside the small, private room. Standing above him, she offers him the cup of stagnant water that was resting on a tray near his bed. He gulps gratefully as tired eyes sweep over him.

"Tony," she sighs, relieved. She weaves one hand into the stands of his hair and takes his cup once it's drained, setting it aside. Massaging the back of his head, she smiles down wearily at him.

"You have been asleep off and on the whole day. They said it was due to the medications."

He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling as she worked her hand through his hair.

"_Mm_... So is that why I feel like that one night we went out for tequila shots and McGee ended up losing his shoes?"

Ziva snorted, pulling up a chair to sit beside him. He opened his eyes to see her expression, and smirks at her exasperation. Her eyes then flicker down and her free hand fiddles with her back pocket again.

"He should have known better than to try and match me." She states absently, turning away from his gaze and across the room. Sighing, Tony settled back comfortably to prepare for a turn towards serious now that he was awake and alert. Grasping her free hand with his, he stroked it thoughtfully before he spoke.

"Are you okay?"

Ziva remained silent, her head still turned towards the opposite wall and away from him. He began to grow anxious until he saw the small quiver of her chin, and relaxes a little.

The ninja was just trying not to get emotional.

"_It's just a flesh wound,_" he tries first, jokingly. When that just prompts the rare ninja-tears of her's to start, though, he quickly backtracks.

"Ziva, we're both okay. I was going to be fine - we had back-up on the way. _Gibbs_ was there."

Ziva finally turned her head to look at him, and her watery gaze fell on the newly bandaged section of his upper torso. She brought her hand down lightly to pat the area he knew where the bullet had passed cleanly through. She hesitated, avoiding his gaze before finally speaking softly.

"It just . . . It all happened so fast. We were outside, and joking, and the next second you and I . . . . And then you were down, Tony. There were so many of them and you-" she stopped when her shaky voice threatened to falter, and she took a deep breath to calm herself. "There was a lot of your blood. And I could not stop it, and they just took you away when we got here an-" her tears were falling freely now and he quickly ran his hand up and down her arm in a comforting gesture.

"Hey, hey," he interrupted, calmly stroking her arm. "It's okay, Ziva. We're both _fine_. This is our job; we know the risks . . . . _You_ know the risks."

Ziva shook her head vehemently, brushing her tears away in frustration. Tony's quick to grab both her hands and hold them forcefully between his own. She allows it, and finishes her previous tirade.

"_No, Tony, _you are not understanding. You do not know." She takes a shaky breath and finally meets his gaze. He swallows the lump in his throat that's caused by his rapidly building anxiety. Whatever it is he's not understanding or yet aware of has his gut churning, and his heart suddenly feels twice as heavy when he observes all the emotions raging in her eyes.

**__.**


	2. Chapter 2

And here's the conclusion. Please take a minute to review if you liked it or have anything to say - It makes me more confident with posting my writing. Hope you enjoy :o)

_**jae**_

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

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**4.**

The door swings open, and he gives her a nod that translates as _go _in their silent language they share. In a blink of an eye, mischievous Ziva becomes Mossad-Ninja. He hears the double click of her gun's safety being disengaged, then engaged again, and he spares a second to admire how bad-ass she is as she swings her body into the room, calculating the threat level.

He barely makes it over the threshold before she shouts, "_Down!" _and he's throwing himself sideways. Gunfire rains down on them and he imitates Ziva's duck-and-roll to where she's taken cover behind a few conveniently placed crates. Leaning back on his knees, he tries to reorient himself, snapping his head up to look at Ziva.

"You good?" he asks urgently.

She's crouched down, back resting against the crates and facing him. Nodding, she raises her gun up, both hands grasping it steady.

"Yes. But our hostage is not." she informs him regretfully, eyes falling to the space near his left. Her expression immediately fills with grief and his heart drops as he turns his head to see their victim's daughter, whom they were negotiating her exchange for a ransom, slumped against the wall, clearly no longer alive.

He mutters an obscenity under his breath and meets her gaze, her eyes heavy with sadness but her face impassive. It was always difficult when a victim was young. They didn't have much time to spare for remorse, however, when bullets continued to fly over their heads behind the crates.

Tony shrugged out of his jacket quickly, leaning over to cover the girl.

"I _hate _drug dealers." He spits out vehemently, tucking his jacket around her.

"Agreed." she replied thickly, eying his action with tenderness.

At the sound of another burst of gunfire, their heads snapped up in focus.

"At least Boss and McGee went in the back, they'll be okay." Tony stated.

Ziva nodded at him, turning her attention back the crates. "Yes, but we will not be for long - I heard at least five shooters." She tilts her head to the side as another blast of gunfire echoed through the first level. She drops her left hand to her side ,and in one fluid movement uncovers her hidden back-up, bringing it up to eye level to check it. Satisfied, she positions it pointing up, and informs him seriously.

"Make that six."

Tony rolls his eyes, and groans as he crawls closer on his knees.

"At ease, Ninja. We've got Gibbs and McGee, they should be coming through the back entr-"

He cuts off as Ziva springs up, spinning around and firing bullets at their current adversaries.

Jumping up with his gun raised, Tony bit out furiously, "_Son of a b-_"

Ziva's head snaps around, her face a look of horror, and her reaction confuses him momentarily because he didn't even finish his sentence. But then he registers the hot, piercing heat in his upper, left torso. He shifts his gun to his left hand, his right instantly going up to clutch at the area. He stares at his partner in shock, and Ziva's arm shoots out and shoves him down to the ground, _hard._

"_Stay down!" _She's yelling at him, before she spins around, waiting one, two, three seconds before jumping up and pulling the trigger six times, rapid fire. The pure fear he heard in her voice isn't something he's ever heard from her, and that has him concerned. But the sudden stab of pain that spikes causes him to be sidetracked. He finally looks down to look at the wound, and is alarmed to see how much blood has already seeped from the area. Relinquishing his hold on his sig, he brings his other, shaking hand up to press against the area. Immediately, both hands are covered in red.

He hears Ziva's voice commanding his attention then, and he looks up, startled to see she's suddenly crouched in front of him, shrugging her jacket off hastily and focusing her attention on his wound. Relaxing, his gaze flits upwards just in time to see one of the offending shooters had somehow escaped Ziva's wrath appear suddenly behind their side of the wooden crates. Grasping Ziva by her shoulder, he had just enough time to throw her backwards. Her gasp of shock mingled with the loud _thump! _of her head smacking against the wood as Tony scrambled for his discarded sig.

******6.**  


The doors of the ambulance had barely swung open before a swarm of emergency response technicians converged on the two, battered members of Team Gibbs. Unlike how time seemed to slow back at the warehouse, Ziva was finding it hard to keep up with the flurry of activity going on around her. All she was able to focus on was the tight grip she had maintained on Tony's hand since they'd been picked up at the scene. The drugs they had pumped into his system had taken effect quickly, and he'd been unconscious for the majority of the ride. Adrenaline now depleting, Ziva forced herself to focus on the slow, but steady pulse in his wrist as the ambulance flew through D.C at a speed that made her driving look tame. Her other hand had remained resting lightly on the small form under Tony's NCIS issued windbreaker, unable to ignore the little girl's presence.

Her brain kicked back into overdrive, however, the moment Tony's gurney was whisked from her side and onto the pavement as the response team bustled around him. Moments later, the little girl was also whisked out from beside her. Ziva quickly lurched forward to jump from the truck, but strong, solid hands forced her back and down into her seat. The offending E.M.T's moved around her as she frantically fought to follow after them.

"Where are you taking them?" she demanded.

Before the E.M.T's who had subdued her could respond, a technician pushing Tony's gurney away from the vehicle relayed loudly to her cohorts, "Dr. Carter is waiting in surgical room three."

Ziva's violent struggling intensified as he was rushed out of her sight while the E.M.T's continued to keep her subdued. She had lost track of where they had taken the little girl, and she spared a brief thought to wondering where they would take her.

Growing impatient with their formalities of checking her vitals now that Tony was no longer their priority, their insistent pleas for her cooperation fell on deaf ears until Gibbs appeared suddenly by the truck's bay.

"Ziva_, knock it off."_

Her head snapped up at the sound of her bosses gruff command, and she seized struggling momentarily.

"_Where is he?_" She demanded icily.

He stepped back as the E.M.T's moved on either side of her to finally lift her up and down off the truck. Observing his movement, her eyes narrowed as they settled on the wheelchair he gripped in front of him.

"Surgery. Doctors said they'd keep us informed." He appraised her up and down quickly as the two men set her on the ground, before continuing. " 'Probably hear something by the time they've finished checking you out." He pushed the wheelchair forward with a frown, daring her to fight. Before she could protest, she was forced into the chair and being pushed in the direction of the receiving bay of the E.R.

"I am not-" she began furiously before the technician's interrupted.

"C.A.T scan is our first priority, ma'am," The fury on Ziva's face spiked and she let out a derisive noise upon the word ma'am. Gibbs hand found her shoulder and gave it a squeeze in an attempt to keep the wrath of the ninja at bay.

They had made it inside and were rushing through the receiving hall, the area a flurry of activity. Turning into another corridor, the one technician continued to address her.

If you could let us know if there's any jewelry or anything you have on your possession, any piercings, any artificial replacements, prone to epileptic seizures, chance you're pregnant, history of ment-"

"I am _fine," _she interrupted, angrily. "This is not even necess-"

"_Ziva," _Gibbs barked tiredly, "S_hut it. _ Let the men do their job. Your head at least needs to be checked out. If not for internal bleeding from that hit you took back there, then for trauma you had prior to this if you're deluded enough to think you're _fine."_

He caught a glimpse of her momentarily abashed face before she was pushed through the swinging doors and sighed, exasperated, as he pushed through to follow.

**5.**

Three of his rounds find their home dead center in the man's chest, and he drops, instantaneously.

Releasing the death grip on his sig, he slides farther down against the wall. Looking up, relief rushes through him as he sees Ziva crawl forward, face scrunched in pain but otherwise still conscious. Her mouth was moving, but suddenly it was very hard to focus on what she's saying. The blood rushing in his ears had drowned out the storm of bullets flying around them, and he blinks hard to focus as she looms closer.

Squinting, he focuses on her face, inches from his own. Her eyes are welling while she's crouched over him.

"_Tony! _ Stay with me, please do not close your eyes."

Stifling a groan as he blinks hard against his blackening vision, he manages to form a sentence.

"Are you _crying?" _He mutters, appalled.

"_Shut up, _DiNozzo." She tells him furiously, but she leans down to kiss his forehead softly anyway.

"Can't wait t' tell Ma-gee," he mumbles quietly. Ziva's leaning over him now, both hands pressed firmly on the area of his shoulder, and he tries to reassure her as best he can while he struggles to maintain consciousness.

" 'll be fine. Gibbs' here."

She just nods at him mutely, increasing the pressure of her hands against his shoulder.

"You're here," he continues to mumble.

"_Shhh." _she commands him. He smiles weakly at her as his eyes droop.

"No _shh_. S'portant."

"You have lost a lot of blood, I think the bullet has hit something major. You need to save your energy." she orders him, rushed and panicked. She's not sure she's ready for the declarations he's going to try to make; They've spent the past year carefully avoiding any big admissions of their feelings. Denial serves to protect them in moments like this.

"Gotta say it, Z." he gets out slowly, biting back a groan.

Shaking her head tearfully, she leans closer to brush chaste kisses against his mouth.

"_Don't." _She murmurs between kisses, "_Please." _She lifts her head enough to look at him seriously. He forces his eyes to open more and focus as he stares back at her.

"I love you, Ziva."

Her face crumples finally, and she shakes her head angrily.

"_Don't, Tony, _don't make me do this."

He feels himself slipping, so he summons the rest of his energy to stay focused on her.

"Tell me, Ziva."

Sirens finally begin to echo in the background, and she hears Gibbs and McGee's shouts in the distance. His hand grasps her's over his wound, and he squeezes it feebly.

"Zi-"

She cuts him off as her lips capture his again, this time in a deeper, loaded kiss. Once she lifts her head, she looks at him fully.

"I love you, Tony. I do."

Her tears fall in ernest now, splashing down and absorbing into the fabric of his ruined clothes. He smiles content, hand still grasping hers. Looking down, she hopes her face doesn't betray her alarm now that her hands are covered in his glistening, red blood.

******7.**  


When he finally returns from his most recent coffee run and his sixth trip to DiNozzo's floor for an update, he finds Ziva has been returned to the sectioned off area she's been designated; a row of gurneys and hospital equipment divided only by curtains. She's sitting on the bed, her back ram-rod straight, and staring blankly at her curtain with the look of someone that's just been sucker-punched.

She doesn't acknowledge him when he appears by her bed. He crushes his omnipresent coffee cup in his hand more aggressively than usual, chucking it violently into the empty waste bin in their little area.

"Finally." He grunts in greeting, and she merely raises her eyebrows in acknowledgment. She had another sentiment in mind for the past three hours she spent going through hospital procedure since they'd arrived.

He lets the silence linger for a few moments, sensing that whatever she was preoccupied with, she'd share eventually. Her eyes drift to the waste basket, then to his tired face.

"What number is that?" she inquires finally, her voice devoid of any emotion.

He stares at her, lowering himself into the spare chair against the curtain.

"Lost track at five," he responds, gruffly.

She nods, her head turning down to examine her nails, hands fidgeting.

"Tony?" she demands, voice low.

Sighing, Gibbs leaned back, rubbing a hand over his face tiredly.

"Not much news. Should be out of surgery soon now - gettin' late."

He sees her swipe at her eyes quickly, looking down and avoiding his gaze. He deliberates for a few moments, then gets up slowly to come sit beside her on the gurney. She continues to look away from him, but unperturbed, he taps the hand resting on her leg twice, gently.

"Your partner's gonna be fine."

Ziva nodded her head, remaining silent. He kept his finger on top of her hand, moving it back and forth in a comforting gesture. He sighs when she still won't look at him, and he readies himself to highlight the problem of the situation.

"This is why there are rules," he chastises softly, attempting to keep the accusation out of his voice.

"_Don't-" _Ziva interrupts him sharply. He closes his mouth, waiting for her to continue. Finally turning her head to look at him, he sees her red and tired eyes are glassy with tears. When she doesn't saying anything, but continues to look at him brokenly, he takes pity and puts his hand to her head.

"He'll be okay," he reminds her again softly.

Ziva takes a deep, ragged breath to maintain control of her threatening tears.

"Gibbs, . . . ." she begins softly, swiping at her eyes again, then gesturing wildly with her hands. "I am. . . .Tony . . . . We are," she is tripping over her words now, and he would have related it to her trials with the English language if it weren't for how flustered and emotional she was rapidly becoming.

His eyebrows rose in alarm when she suddenly got up and began pacing around in front of him.

"There was such a minimal chance for me, I never even imagined I would ever be able to . . . ." she continues to ramble, on the verge of crying. He quickly puts an arm out to stop her, gripping her by the elbow and focusing her attention.

She looks at him and tries to elaborate as her tears finally flood her eyes.

"How can I almost lose something I did not even know I had?" her voice is soft, demanding an answer.

His face lights up in realization. Getting up, he places both hands on her shoulders to look at her closely.

"You're pregnant." He states, disbelief coloring his tone.

She simply nods at him as pulls her into a hug.

******10.**  


He clears his throat, trying again.

"Okay. . . . Ziva, is there something wrong? Are you okay? The Team?" Panic begins to creep into his voice when he sees her gaze flicker down again and her hand fiddles with her back pocket.

She's shaking her head again, and he doesn't think he's ever seen her break down quite this easily, and that scares him.

"_Talk. To. Me." _He commands.

Her face crumples in defeat and she extracts a hand from his, reaching to grab whatever she stuffed into her back pocket. Her hand is shaking slightly when she finally hands him the proffered object.

"What's-" he stops when he finally flips the flimsy paper over. He allows a moment of silence to fall as he comes up with a response.

"Well. . . . " he tries to begin, and has to clear his throat once; twice. She watches him carefully, her expression guarded.

"I guess we weren't far off with stomach _bug_." his voice high, he attempts to calm her conversationally.

"_Tony_, " Ziva warns him, her face and eyes still carefully guarded. She tries to snatch the photograph of the ultrasound from his grip, but he quickly moves it away, still staring at it. Several emotions flash across his face, and she sees shock, surprise, and awe pass over him. She begins to fidget, agitated.

Speaking rushed, she continues.

"I. . . I had no idea, Tony. I did not-"

"How many weeks is it? I mean him, or her. . . is he a her?" Tony interrupts, his face becoming animated as he stares at the source of all her additional anxiety since arriving at the hospital.

She startles, thrown off by his reaction.

"I . . .it . . ." she flounders. "No. I mean, I do not know just yet. I was told in about a month we should be able to tell." He looks up at her expectantly, his eyes bright.

"How long has it - have you been -" now he is the one scrambling for words. Her guarded expression thaws slightly, and she shifts her seat closer near his head to look at the photograph with him. She points a slightly shaking finger on the image, while she informs him softly.

"About twelve weeks." disbelief colors her voice while she stares at the image. She checks his face again, but his calm and happy demeanor only fuels her anxiety more. Straightening up, the dam of emotions break and her tirade begins.

"Understand that I have been told there was only ever a minimal chance of this ever happening for me. I have told you this. This is something I'm certainly not ready for and I understand if you cannot handle this, Tony. I am so sor-"

As she paces back near his head, his arm shoots out to grab her hand and hold her still.

"Don't," he interrupts, "Don't say you're sorry." She falls silent, staring down at him momentarily before resuming her seat near his head. He doesn't think he's ever seen her so close to falling apart, and rubs her hand in a comforting gesture as he searches for the right way to deliver his feelings.

"Look," he begins, "I know we haven't been very good at being clear about where we stand. . . ." he looks at her, and continues when she nods, "But I don't want you to doubt that the feelings I have for you aren't there. Or aren't real." He tightens his grip on her hand, and he looks away before he can continue. "What I said back there, today, I meant it. And I'm positive those feelings are permanent." He takes a shaky breath and looks up to meet her gaze again. "I'm not going anywhere, Ziva."

He watches a smile finally break across her face, and he returns her expression before tugging her hand softly to pull her closer. She reciprocates, chuckling, and leans in to kiss him deeply.

When she pulls away, she remains hovering over him as they share a loaded look, before she breaks the silence, softly.

"I love you, Tony."

His grin widens, and he lets his hand travel from her arm to her hip.

"I love you too, Zee-vah." He adds, a moment later, "Both of you. We can do this."

Ziva nods mutely, looking away when her eyes begin to fill again.

"I do not want to fail them," she admits quietly.

He takes a moment to consider her words and the meaning behind them.

"Ziva. . . ." he starts cautiously, "If this is about the little gir-"

"We could have saved her if we had been there sooner." she cuts him off, meeting his gaze miserably.

"It wasn't our fault, Zi. This has nothing to do with our capabilities as . . . . " he trails off, the word _parents_ still too surreal to use for the moment.

Ziva nods, staring down at his hospital blanket while she picked at the fraying fabric.

"Her name was Piper." she murmured, softly.

Tony grabbed her hand again, rubbing it gently.

"Pretty name," he said sincerely. "Different. Where'd they take her, after. . . ?" he trails off.

"They brought her with us from the scene. I was allowed to see her after they were finished examining me."

Tony makes an inaudible noise, and his grip on her hand tightens a little more.

"She's not the first we've lost, Ziva. We can hope that she'll be the last, though."

She shifts closer to him, her free hand reaching out to pick up the sonogram picture he'd put down earlier. She looks at it thoughtfully, then turning her face towards his.

"I will do everything I can for them." she tell him, resolutely. He smiles as he responds.

"You and I _both_, Sweetcheeks." He corrects her, "We're in this together."

She smiles, leaning over to kiss him lightly, before drawing back. She places a hand lightly on his bandaged torso.

"Just promise me you will not get yourself shot, ever. Again." she orders him, seriously.

He groans, laying his head back.

"I will most definitely try not to."

She chuckles, and leans over to kiss his forehead, her hand clutching the small photograph tightly.

**.**


End file.
